


How to save John Watson

by Goldenheartedrose



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Episode: s03e01 The Empty Hearse, M/M, Miscommunication, Not Canon Compliant, POV Sherlock Holmes, The Empty Hearse Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 08:47:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8743249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldenheartedrose/pseuds/Goldenheartedrose
Summary: I would die for you, he thinks before he hears John’s negation.
 
“There’s no point now, is there, because there’s not enough time to get away, and if we don’t do this, other people will die.”





	

Sherlock Holmes is clever. 

 

John Watson had called him clever, and no, not the John in his head.  The John in his head told him he wasn’t enough, that he needed to be  _ more. _

 

No, the real John is here, in front of him, and he had told him that he was clever.  He is looking at him as though he was the bloody savior of the entire world, and Sherlock can’t, he can’t do it, he is  _ stuck.   _

 

They are going to die here if he doesn’t do something.  And what kind of bitter, horrific irony is that? Play dead for two years, Sherlock.  Take out Moriarty’s network, keep John safe, and in the end they are going to die anyway?

 

Unless --

 

“Go, John, go now.”  

 

He knows it’s unlikely to be enough, it’s unlikely to work.  They have just two minutes until a  _ bomb  _ goes off, a bomb that will level all of Parliament if his estimations are correct, but he has to try.  He has to try once more to keep this man ( _ his friend, his heart) _ safe.  

 

_ I would die for you,  _ he thinks before he hears John’s negation.

 

“There’s no point now, is there, because there’s not enough time to get away, and if we don’t do this, other people will die.”  His voice is rough, and it’s angry.

 

He’s right, of course, but being  _ right  _ doesn’t help quell the panic that’s wrapping its cold fingers around Sherlock’s heart, the anxiety in “not enough, not enough, and we’re going to die here, and it’ll all be for nothing.”

 

“Mind Palace.”

 

The gruffly spoken words snap Sherlock’s mind back into focus.  

 

“Use your Mind Palace.”

 

Sherlock looks at him in confusion.  John doesn’t get it.  He doesn’t understand how it  _ works _ .  If the information isn’t there, it doesn’t matter, it won’t matter.  He can’t recall things he doesn’t know.

 

“How will that help?”

 

“You’ve salted away every fact under the sun!”

 

Sherlock responds with frustration.  “Oh, and you think I’ve just got ‘How to Defuse a Bomb’ tucked away in there somewhere?”

 

“Yes!” John all but yells.

 

“Maybe.”  Maybe John does have a point.  There’s loads of information stored away in Sherlock’s brain, and if he can just focus, just think, just travel into the compartments in his mind, if he can just stop focusing on John and can focus on this, this problem, maybe they can live.  Maybe…

 

But John’s voice is there, and it’s distracting, and he wants to tell him to shut up, to stop telling him to think because he’s trying, he is, but the more he tries, the more he presses his fingers to his temple and shuts his eyes to try and block out all the noise in his head, the harder it is.  He sorts and shifts and reorganizes and he knows in that instant that it’s all for nought.

 

It’s not enough.

 

“Oh my God,” John is saying.  “This is it.”

 

Sherlock can barely hear him over his own panting breath as he drops to his knees, as he crawls over the bomb and skates his fingers over every last inch of the device, begging his intellect to find a way to fix this, to turn off the device, to save John Watson.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says, as John turns to face him once again.

 

“What?”

 

Sherlock can hardly see John through the tears that spring to his eyes, and when had he allowed his transport to give into the emotions that he’d long kept buried so deep within his soul? 

 

“I can’t...I can’t do it, John.  I don’t know how.  Forgive me?”

 

“What?” He can hear in John’s voice the gruff tightness that indicates that he is angry, and Sherlock wants to soothe him, wants to wash all of the underlying pain away.  

 

“Please, John.  Forgive me...for all the hurt that I caused you.”  

 

Sherlock is sure this is the way one begins a proper apology, and that’s what he wants - he wants to ask for forgiveness.  If they are going to die here, he wants a clean slate.  He wants John to know what’s in his heart.

  
  


“No, no, no, no, no, no.  This is a trick.”  

 

“No.”  John thinks he’s manipulating him.  He thinks that he is teasing him, joking around, and when will John understand that this isn’t the kind of man he is anymore? How long will it take?

 

Too long.  Longer than they have.

 

“Another one of your bloody tricks.”

 

“No.”

 

“You’re just trying to make me say something nice.”

 

A laugh, at that.  When has that ever worked with John? He can’t, he wouldn’t, not anymore, not after everything.

 

“Not this time.”  He sees the numbers count down, and it’s two minutes until their demise.

 

“It’s just to make you look good even though you behaved like…”

 

He waits for the names, for the insults, the accusations, for everything the John inside his head has ever said to him.  They don’t come.  He knows if John doesn’t say them now, they’ll never come.

 

“I wanted you not to be dead.”

 

“Yeah, well, be careful what you wish for.”  A sharp intake of breath at that, almost a laugh.  “If I hadn’t come back, you wouldn’t be standing there and --”  His voice is tight and he swallows hard.  “You’d still have a future, with Mary.”  It isn’t what he meant to say, not at all.  

 

“I know.”  

 

The car is silent for a moment, the only sounds John’s heavy breathing and a choked off sob from Sherlock.  Finally, John turns back around to face him.  Sherlock cannot even look at him, a fist over his lips to prevent his traitorous emotions from rebelling against his body once again.

 

“Look, I find it difficult.  I find it difficult, this sort of stuff.”

 

Sherlock raises his head just a bit, to look into John’s face.  “I know.”

 

John’s voice has dropped to a whisper, and he knows that this is John, trying to exert some control over the emotions that threaten to overwhelm him.  “You were the best and wisest man that I have ever known.”  His own tears threaten to fall as he sighs deeply, choking back his own cry.  “Yes, of course I forgive you.”

 

Sherlock looks up, his eyes wide with surprise and tears filling his eyes anew.  What had he ever done to deserve John Watson? This man, this brave, brave man is standing before him, quite literally facing death alongside him, and he’s given him everything - his friendship, his forgiveness.

 

John closes his eyes, all the fear and regret vanquished in that one moment as he breathes deeply and waits.

 

_ This can’t be my last chance _ , Sherlock thinks.   _ This can’t be it.  It was supposed to be the two of us, the two of us forever _ .  

 

John is breathing hard, and Sherlock can hear it echo inside his head, and that’s what causes his brain to come back online.

 

_ A button, a switch, anything.  There must be something. _ He sees it, he flips the switch and braces for impact, and nothing.  The time on the display flickers and he hears the hysterical laughter escape his lips just as John’s eyes fly open.

 

* *  * * * * * * *

 

In the end, of course, John jumps to the wrong conclusion, and Sherlock makes a few jokes, and they laugh, and it’s giggling at a crime scene and “he wasn’t a very nice man” all over again.  It feels like them.

 

Later, Sherlock will tell the truth.  

 

He will tell John that he didn’t know how to defuse a bomb, not until the very last moment.

 

He will tell him that he heard him ask for one more miracle.

 

He will tell him that he came back for him, because he asked.

 

Much later, he will tell John that he loves him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you ever so much for the incomparable Ariane DeVere, for her glorious transcript, which you can find here: http://arianedevere.livejournal.com/64080.html


End file.
